


Tik Tok

by sommeabitch



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Birth of a Villan, Corruption, F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 15:08:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6860116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sommeabitch/pseuds/sommeabitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joker gets a new girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

               “NO, NO PLEASE, MISTA J! Harley shouted over the thunderous sound of the pounding rain.

               The Joker dangled her over the edge of the building like a worm on a hook, but Harley thought he looked more like a shark than she had ever seen him. His eyes flashed ravenously at her, his lips tearing across his face in a malicious grin. The heavy rain had eroded away the mask of paint on his face, revealing streaks of the ivory skin beneath.

               He cackled lowly, nearly growling. His hand gripped the thin material of her T- shirt, suspending her 20 feet above the asphalt below. She felt another tear rip through her clothes and she clawed at his arm desperately. At this, he crowed amusedly, and then his gaze softened suddenly. It was a mockery of a sympathetic expression and it gave her no false hope, but rather ascertained her demise.

               “Ya know Harls,” He drawled in that tone he only used when he was telling a joke, though usually he was the only one who found it funny. Harley’s blood turned to ice. “It’s been a blast workin’ with you but, um… I think I’m gonna have to let you go.”

               She watched in horror as his face stretched into that wicked grin, and then she fell.

 

              

                I sighed, lifting my chin off of the counter for a moment to pop my neck. As I did so, something on the small TV behind the counter caught my eye and I lazily pressed the volume button so I could hear. Images of blood splattered garbage bins occupied the screen, which really weren’t news for Gotham city, but what caught my eye was a name.

               “Former Psychologist Harleen Quinzel, known by the people of Gotham as The Joker’s associate, Harley Quinn, was found this evening in an alley near the boardwalk, deceased.” The man spoke in that sugary tone that many anchors used and a strange smile played on his lips. “Detectives who have investigated the crime scene ae fairly certain she was thrown from the roof of a nearby building and that she fell at least 20 feet to the ground below where she broke her neck upon impact. Police are still investigating possible suspects of the murder.”

               I huffed out a laugh and turned the volume back down.

               “Whoever killed her outta get a medal,” I said. “It was probably one of those psycho’s she ‘worked’ with.”

I slumped back into her small rolling chair and groaned, rubbing my tired eyes roughly with the heels of my hands. I was incredibly bored, which was in no way irregular seeing as I worked the night shift at a 24/7 ‘gas station’ store that no longer sold gasoline. Apparently too many fires had been lit and assholes kept forcing people to drink the gas.

               I felt my head lull and I pinched my cheeks to wake myself up. Falling asleep on the job again could get me fired, and I was already a month behind on rent. The digital clock on the opposite wall read 2:35am and I blinked hard at it, vaguely hoping it would read 3:00 when I opened my eyes again so that I could go home.

               I counted in my head how much sleep I could get this morning before my big interview.

“If the subway runs extra smoothly and if I just jump in bed as soon as I get home thatsss… two hours and 27 minutes of potential catnap,”

               I sighed sadly and plopped my head onto the counter. _Gonna need a lotta coffee._

_****************************_

               My head snapped up suddenly at the sound of someone giggling. One look at the clock told me it was 3:23 and that I had slept past the end of my shift.  _Nice._ I locked gazes with the source of the obnoxious noise, Carson. He was holding up his phone toward me, a fleshy smirk plastered onto his face.

               Carson was my only co-worker besides our manager and he was a complete and utter creep. He was highly autistic and so had a very difficult time controlling his emotions which meant some extreme temper tantrums often resulting in the complete destruction of the store. These occurred about three to four times a month. The boss, Jimmy, who was a small, frail man and the one and only uncle of Carson, was too afraid to even look Carson in the eye let alone fire him; understandably considering Carson was easily 6” and weighed as much as a pregnant whale.

               I personally couldn’t have cared less about Carson and his freakish temper if it wasn’t for his disturbing attraction to me. At first he just stared _a lot,_ but I didn’t really let it bother me until he started getting handsy. Eventually I complained to Jim and he gave us shifts that didn’t over-lap. After that I didn’t see him very often.

               “Shit,” I cussed, holding my head in my hands.

Carson pressed a button on his phone and turned the screen towards me so I could see the video he’d taken.

               “Hey, Danny,” He chuckled, his eyes roving over me.

               I ignored the terrifying look he was giving me and analyzed the situation. I knew exactly where this was going and I did not want it to go there. He was going to try to blackmail me with this stupid video of me sleeping that in his mind he probably saw as ‘scandalous’, and though the boss was a reasonably rational guy and would probably just cut some of my pay, Carson could be very intimidating. If I was going to get out of this safely I needed to tread very carefully.

               “Please delete that Carson, I didn’t mean to fall asleep I only put my head down for a second--,” Carson cut me off brashly.

               “What?! Delete it? No, no this is wayy too good to just _throw away_ ; think of all the fun I could have with this,” Carson’s glazed eyes disappeared into his fat face as he grinned lecherously at me.

               I felt my blood beginning to boil.

               “Delete it Carson,” I growled, eliciting a cackle from him.

 _Bad move,_ I told myself.

               “Okay, okay, heh, how about a trade?” he asked innocently.

               I felt the fire in my gut light the moment those words came out of his mouth. I knew exactly what he wanted and there was no way in hell I was giving it to him. Carson’s pink skin glistened with grease and sweat, fresh stubble protruding from his chin and neck. My hands subconsciously searched for something to throw at him under the counter, but I refrained. Instead, I decided to take advantage of the situation. I inwardly collected myself, letting nothing show on my face, and then I laughed.

               “Yeah, that isn’t gonna happen,” I said, gathering my things.

               Carson’s face dropped in confusion at my non-reaction.

               “If you don’t want this video getting to the boss it will,” he replied gruffly.

               I pulled on my hat and shrugged nonchalantly

               “Keep it,” I said, shuffling calmly past him.

               As I expected, he gripped my arm violently, digging his clammy fingers into my skin.

               “HEY!” he spat at me, obviously at a loss for words.

               His grip was painful and I had to focus hard to stay in character, but somehow I allowed a look of mild annoyance to surface seamlessly. I huffed impatiently and looked him in his watery eyes which blazed with fury. He was on the verge of a tantrum and I definitely didn’t want to get hit this morning. My eyes flicked over to the cameras on the walls and he followed my gaze.

               “Smile, Carson. You’re on camera,” I hummed, giving him my sincerest smile as his grip on my arm loosened. As soon as I was free, I strolled past him and pushed open the door to the store, forcing myself not to break into a sprint to my car.

               Behind me, thick drool dribbled from his red lips as his eyes followed me out of the building. He stood there, silently seething; sweat soaking his hair as he pounded his brain for a long time.

               Later that day, Jimmy arrived to a store in ruin.

              

               The drive home was surprisingly quiet. No homeless people screamed at me, no streetwalkers approached my car, and no emergency alerts blared on my stereo; it was just me and my pissed-off-self.  I grumbled and cursed under my breath the entire way home.

               “Fucking… creep… not gonna put his hands on _me_ …”

               By the time I was unlocking the door to my apartment however, my temper had boiled down and I felt my exhaustion come back full force. I kicked off my shoes and threw myself on to the couch, not even bothering to walk the extra ten feet to my bed. My alarm was already set, so I let myself sink into the cushions and fall asleep.

 

               It felt like I’d barely shut my eyes when my alarm blared. Light from outside filtered through the windows, illuminating the mess that was my apartment. I shifted over and every muscle in my body protested, screaming for rest, but I forced myself to sit up. My interview was in exactly three hours and I needed to be ready.

               Getting up that morning was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. The first thing I did was drag myself to the bathroom to take well needed shower, which proved to be a very bad decision considering that I almost got under the water with all of my clothes on. Afterwards, I quickly got some coffee into my system and colors and shapes began to separate so that I was able to focus long enough to put my make-up on. I pulled on the outfit I’d picked out and stared at my reflection contemplatively. The ivory dress I wore went just below my knees and hugged my form in a way that said sexy, while the long sleeves and tight collar said conservative. My jet black hair was left down to flow over my shoulders and the look was topped with a blush pink lip.

               I laughed at the stranger who watched me. The outfit was _not_ me, but I wasn’t auditioning for the part of Danielle Thevierge, I was playing Melissa Danish—respectable school teacher and starring love interest in a movie directed by David Kiang. I sighed, suddenly feeling nervous. This was my shot at the acting career of my dreams. A shiver ran down my spine.

               _No more bouncing checks, no more midnight hold-ups, no more Carson._

               Acting was second nature for me. Slipping seamlessly into someone else’s head was no more a challenge than breathing. It was always a strange and thrilling experience, being able to look through someone else’s eyes, even for a moment. I’d attended acting school; studied every form of acting existing. It was a gift I’d had since birth; my ambition, my dream and my obsession.

               Because of this, when I auditioned I had complete confidence. I breathed, I was Melissa, and they believed it.

               “Fantastic,” one of the producers commented.

               The director nodded in agreement.

               “You’re just what we’re looking for, Ms. Thevierge. The part is yours,"

And just like that my life changed-- only not in the way I thought it would.


	2. Last day on the job

 

                The store bell chimed as I walked through the front door, ready to complete my Last Shift Ever at that shit hole. Somehow the knowledge that I’d never have to come back to that place made me hate it even more. The browning floors looked especially sticky, more bugs than usual seemed to crawl casually about, and the stale white lights above were nearly blinding. I moved to toss my bag behind the counter as a thick hand wrapped tightly around my wrist. I spun around to see who grabbed me and another set of hands attached to my other arm painfully, making me yelp. A wave of foul, warm air swarmed my senses as Carson’s grinning face filled my vision.

               “Hey!” I yelled, trying to process what was happening.

               Before I could come anywhere close to understanding, I was being hustled outside through the backdoor by the two strangers who held me. One of them ripped at my hair so to keep me from being able to see their faces. I struggled, letting my legs go limp, trying to use my dead weight against them, but the one holding my hair pulled me up making me scream in pain. Eventually they dragged me outside into the dingy back alley and I was able to hear Carson’s snorting laughter. He seemed to be having a very difficult time containing himself and I was not having it.

               “Carson!” I screamed, struggling to hit something and unable.

                Carson calmed himself a little and moved to squat heavily in front of me, still giggling.

               “Hey Danielle, “he chuckled, making me gag at the smell of his breath again.

               “What the fuck do you think you’re doing let me go!” I spit, trying to convey just how completely _pissed off_ I was.

                He seemed to find my rage hilarious.

               “Wow you’re loud,” he laughed, shuffling a little closer to my face. “I knew you could get mad I knew it I knew it. You’re a very good pretender but I knew it.”

               A self-satisfied smirk stretched across his face and I suddenly remembered that he’d never seen me angry. It wasn’t that he’d never made me angry; he always made me angry, I just always acted like I didn’t care. I had a hot temper, one that had gotten me into trouble a lot when I was younger, so to cope I made it into an exercise, one that I had apparently gotten pretty good at considering I did it almost sub-consciously. I inwardly cursed myself at my lack of self-control-- this was going to be a very difficult situation to get out of now. Something about making people mad excited Carson, or entertained him; maybe both.

               There was no going back now, however. I couldn’t just back-track and play all that screaming and thrashing off like it was nothing. I needed to play along for now; otherwise the guys holding me were going to break both of my arms. I smiled sardonically and stopped pulling.

               “Yeah, kudos to you Carson, what do you want?” I asked, and something terrifying lighted in his eyes, making me immediately want to take back my question.

               “Uh,” he drawled, apparently contemplating. “Sit on my dick.”

               I wasn’t surprised by his request, but something about hearing him say it made me want to throw up.

               “No way in hell,” I replied.

               He stopped smiling and smacked me hard.

               “NO!” he shouted into my ear and I cringed, struggling to put some distance between us.

               He clasped one fat hand tightly around my jaw, forcing my mouth open and smashed his lips against mine bruisingly. I shook my head, and the hand in my hair tightened, holding me in place. He jabbed his thick wet tongue into mouth, and I bit down hard making him wail in pain. He fell back onto the asphalt, his tongue dangling out of his mouth, tears obviously forming in his eyes. The metallic taste of Carson’s blood in my mouth was over whelming and I spit onto the asphalt.

               He cried loudly, pawing at his bleeding tongue and then turned abruptly toward me, eyes blazing. Thinking he was going to hit me again, I turned my face away, bracing for the impact. I heard him pull himself up and storm back into the store. I looked up confusedly and the two men behind me shuffled slightly, obviously just as baffled. A loud crash came from inside and I could feel my anger evaporating, making way for the cold fear that spread from my chest throughout my limbs.

               When he came back, he was clutching a full pot of boiling coffee in his hands, his eyes wild and focused unblinkingly at me. Everything in the store was dysfunctional in some way, and the coffee maker had a tendency to heat the coffee to scalding temperatures. The dark liquid that Carson held was still boiling and I screamed as loud as my lungs enabled me to. Carson flinched at the noise, but only looked more enraged by it.

               “Shut up shut up shutup shutup!” he chanted as he lunged at me, pot in hand. I curled up, trying to cover as much of my skin as possible and screamed bloody murder, praying that some passerby would hear and call the police. He pinched my jaw again and before I had time register that I needed to shut my mouth, he was pouring the sweltering coffee down my throat.  

               I vaguely felt the two men behind me let go as some of the coffee splashed onto them. Carson’s grip on my face was more than strong enough to keep me in place however, even as the broiling liquid poured over his hand and onto the pavement. I choked and spat, flailing uselessly as the blistering fluid burned a path down my throat. I struggled to breathe as it poured into my lungs and seared my flesh. Black started spreading throughout my vision and I begged for unconsciousness—something to free me from the excruciating pain.

                Just as I began to slip away, Carson chucked the empty pot into the wall across the alley and shook my head with both hands. I coughed, sending coffee and blood onto both Carson and I. At the sight, Carson looked almost concernedly at me; I knew better. The last thing I remember before passing out was Carson tearing my clothes off.

 

               When my eyes cracked open, crusty from fallen tears, I was in a white room. I coughed and every atom in my body screamed; my insides were on fire. A sob racked my body and a squelching wheeze was the only noise that I made. My hands searched my body weakly and I found that tubes were protruding from my mouth and nose. I was beginning to panic, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think and I was burning up. I wanted to pull out these awful tubes that were choking me.

               I wrapped one weak hand around the tube in my mouth and pulled. Pain shot through my body like flames and I let go, hands shaking uncontrollably. What would have been a scream came out as an agonizing, wheezing, gurgle. Two men in blue came rushing in and immediately went to work resetting my tubes. They spoke with urgency and never addressed me, but I barely noticed them. One of them stuck a needle in my arm and a few moments later everything went dark.

 

               I awoke what might have been hours or days later in the same room. Everything was foggy and seemed far away, like I was looking through the wrong end of a telescope. A nurse was in the room with me and when she saw that I was awake, she walked briskly out of the door. It felt like hours before a doctor walked through the door, but it could have been only minutes. She sat down beside me and mumbled something. She spoke again, this time a little louder and I realized she must be talking to me.

               “Ms. Thevierge?” she asked.

               I blinked in response and she scribbled something onto her board.

               “I’m Doctor Hammonds, Ms. Thevierge. I’ll be treating you for the remainder of your stay here in Gotham Hospital.”

               I blinked again, trying with difficulty to focus on her face.

              “I don’t know how much you remember Ms. Thevierge, but you’ve been in a terrible accident. Third degree burns have been inflicted throughout your mouth, esophagus, tonsils, lungs, and vocal cords. Heavy bruising was found around your neck, ribs and genitalia. You’re very lucky to be alive,”

 _Accident_. That’s funny word.

               “We’re currently putting you on morphine to help reduce the pain, but there isn’t much else we can do but wait for the damage to heal on its own. I’m confident that you will make a full recovery; the burns on your face are relatively minor and should heal without scarring. Your vocal cords however have been badly marred, the delicate tissue was burned beyond repair and it’s likely that they’ll never heal.”

               It was a moment before her words processed. I can’t talk. I can’t _talk._ Oh. Tears began streaming down my face unwillingly, stinging my burns. The doctor regarded me sympathetically and then looked away uncomfortably. She asked me something about family and friends but I wasn’t listening.

_It’s okay I can still act. I can’t talk but I can still act._

               Doctor Hammonds eventually left after trying and failing to get my attention again. That evening, a letter arrived for me addressed by David Kiang.  

_We regret to inform you that due to your unfortunate incapacity, the part of Melissa Danish will be played by another actor.  
_

_Best of wishes,_ _David Kiang_

               Something inside me broke as I read the words over and over again. _Incapacity. They think I can’t act because I can’t talk_. I tore the letter up and scattered the pieces. They were idiots who knew nothing. Some of the greatest actors of all time were silent actors. I pushed on my eyes to stop the tears from falling. They were wrong. I could still do it.

               I’ll show them that I can do it.

 

 

 


End file.
